Larry’s Yoga Story
Larry wearing a hat from Guatemala, a gift from a friend. Travelling vicariously through friends and family. From as far back as can remember, I have been seeking a closer relationship with the divine source of creation, a god of…
Larry wearing a hat from Guatemala, a gift from a friend. Travelling vicariously through friends and family. From as far back as can remember, I have been seeking a closer relationship with the divine source of creation, a god of…
by A.D. Trimble A.D. Trimble My parents first introduced me to yoga. They were both raised in conservative, United Church middle class Toronto but in an act of sheer defiance at the time, my father one day announced that the family…
by Clare Cullen Meeting Community Where You Are I came to the Salt Spring Centre of Yoga almost by accident – and yet nothing really happens by accident, does it? I was seeking community, a fresh start and a purpose…
My story begins here, in the present. I am a new member of the Dharma Sara Satsang Society and honoured that Sharada has offered me this opportunity to share my story. I’m excited to publicly declare my commitment to you…
Prologue – Becoming Aware of the Play, the Pavement, and the Playground This story begins in the early seventies in Port Credit, Ontario. A little brown boy, maybe seven or eight, sitting alone in the grass at the edge of…
Amaresh and his son, Mike “The more we accept living with nature, the more peace we attain.” My favorite Babaji saying and how it all began: One of my first memories was lying in my crib watching the tops of…
Before I lost sight of my true self I haven’t always been a seeker. In fact, “runner” would have been a more accurate description. I started running as early as I can remember. When I was young, there wasn’t really…
Carolyn and baby Sierra, 2004 Over 23 years ago I discovered the centre. During those years of being a visiting student on the land Babaji was the pivotal focus of all activities and learning. Many of us would follow him…
Interview with Alex Smith by Courtenay Cullen I’m sitting with Alex in the Nature Conservancy, in the fading golden light of a summer’s evening, at his favourite bench. He spends many quiet evenings at this place, and we all know…
The night before Babaji left his body was the first time I was ever an offerer during a yajna. It felt special, and important, because we all knew that it could be any time that he passed. My heart reached…